


Something More

by SnowWight



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWight/pseuds/SnowWight
Summary: Merlin and Arthur have worked together, and dated, in secret.  But Merlin is starting to realize that this isn't everything he ever wanted, and Arthur is struggling to hold on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, guys. But, here it is?

Arthur bit his bottom lip and let his finger travel the length of Merlin's arm. Merlin, taller by just over an inch, was stretched out across the bed in an obscene way, his bare chest pale against the cream sheets. Arthur ran his knuckles over the underside of Merlin's arm, the skin milky and soft. 

Merlin murmured and rolled over, his head in the crook of his own elbow, his heavy breath sinking over Arthur. His knees were all on Arthur's side, pressed up against his ass, the back of his knees. He'd stolen all the blankets, too, and then kicked them off on his side of the bed. Arthur didn't have it in him to be mad, though he'd certainly bring it up as ammunition later in the day. Maybe to get Merlin to make him eggs and bacon. 

Then sunlight was warm and soft through the gauze curtain. Arthur moved the back of his hand from Merlin's wrist to his forehead, stroking his soft black curls. There was a serenity in mornings like this that he was unable to capture anywhere else. He left the bed slowly and reluctantly, the cold wood floor sending a shiver up the back of his spine. 

Arthur had showered and was pulling on a shirt when Merlin finally sat up, naked and bedraggled. "What time is it?" He said, his hand pressed flat against his nose. 

"About 10:30. I have to be at my sister's in an hour." Arthur pressed the seam of his shirt flat. His sister noticed everything, and she wouldn't be pleased to know that he was having an affair with her favorite graphic designer. She'd probably consider it bad for business.

Merlin groaned and let his head fall back into the pile of pillows. "Of course you do." 

Arthur stood up and looked himself over on the mirror again. He looked good. Athletic. Not like he'd been mouth-to-mouth with the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Perfectly acceptable for a business meeting. "I know," he said, walking around the bed to press a kiss on the back of Merlin's neck. "I was going to walk you up earlier, but you looked so beautiful asleep." 

The blush curled up around Merlin's neck, and he laughed. "God, you do have a silver tongue, don't you?" He turned around and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, bringing Arthur down so that the pair were nose to nose. "All the right words in all the right places." 

"I mean it all, though." Arthur could feel Merlin's breath on his nose, and he swallowed. He was meeting ready. All of his creases ironed, his hair flat again his head. Merlin, though. Merlin deftly undid all that, his fingers skirting the nape of Arthur's neck. "I swear I do." Arthur stumbled against Merlin, his breath shallowing.

Merlin laughed, deep in his chest. He planted a light kiss on Arthur's jawline, and then shoved him away, a smile playing across his face. "Don't you have somewhere more productive to be?"

Arthur was having trouble remembering. 

Merlin stood up and pushed him back, and Arthur's fingers wrapped around his thin shoulder bones. Merlin's morning breath was terrible, but he was worth it, his lips and his fingers working to take Arthur apart at the seams without any regard for how to put him back together again.

"Come on, come on, " Arthur whispered, his fingers straying farther and farther, barely moving his lips to to talk. But that's what made Merlin step away, sidling out from between Arthur and the bed. 

"I need to take a shower," was all he said, and Arthur was left standing in the middle of his bedroom. The room felt emptier than Arthur could ever remember it. 

When Merlin still hadn't finished with his shower after 15 minutes, Arthur left, bile creeping up the back of his throat as he carefully closed the front door. Orange juice and buttered toast sat on the counter, waiting for Merlin's eventual appearance. He was doing something wrong. He was doing everything wrong. And he didn't know how to start making it better.

 

"It's like he doesn't want to be seen with me." Merlin jabbed at the limp lettuce with his fork. Gwen looked on, sympathy shaping the landscape of her features. "I get that he's rich and shit, and maybe this is about his job but still. He could tell me instead of being all," he waves his hand in the air above his head, "nice about it."

"I'm sure he's trying not to insult you," Gwen said sadly, unwrapping her cafeteria with delicate fingers. 

“I’’m sure he’s not trying to either, and that’s exactly the fucking problem.” Merlin licked his lips, swiping his lips with his tongue, checking for any stray salad dressing. “He’s so fucking proper, all the time. ‘Excuse me, Merlin, mind if I fuck you up the ass? Just remember to make the bed when we’re finished.’ It’s infuriating.” 

Gwen choked on her cookie as she laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Look,” she said, recovering herself, “It seems like you like him, to some extent—“ 

“I like fucking him.” 

“Okay, okay, I don’t need more information. It seems like you care about some part of this relationship, no matter what you say— Hey!” Her voice got louder and she stared at Merlin, sternly. “Let me finish. From the amount that you complain about this man, I think I can say that you care about him for more than his dick. So talk to him.” 

“About what?” 

“This.” She gestured to the table, the space between them. “Everything you’ve just said to me right now. Sit down and tell him about it, not me.” 

“He doesn’t care. Yesterday morning he left me in his house and just went to work or whatever the fuck, and left me breakfast. Oh, that’s supposed to make me feel special and good. I don’t know, Gwenny.” He ran his hand through his hair, and looked out the glass window of the break room at the tables that spanned the length of the work room. “I say that I’’m going to just give up on him, but I never do.” 

“I know.” She scratched her chin, her fingernails blunt and practical. She did mock ups, shaping the proposed products into a 3-dimensional form. “Are you allowed to tell me who this man is yet?” 

“Nope.” Merlin popped the p as he finished off the last bite of his salad. “It’s really hush hush.” 

“Why, though?” Gwen turned in her seat to look at him as he crossed the room to the trash can. “Is he not out, or something?” 

“If he wasn’t out, I wouldn’t be mad. Please. I would be a little hurt, but not pissed. I think you know me well enough to know that.” Merlin checked his hair in the reflection of the microwave. 

“I try to know as little as possible about your romantic life.” Gwen finished up her desert and joined Merlin in front of the microwave. “I just want you to be happy, okay?” She touched his shoulder briefly before reaching up to tuck a curl back in place. “And if this means I have to beat up a mysterious man, then I will.” 

“Thanks, Gwenny.” Merlin bent down and kissed Gwen on the cheek. She smiled, and pecked him back. 

“Just stop being so blue. And get me that design, would you? Morgana’s breathing down my neck.” She left the break room, her fingers trailing along Merlin’s back, as Gwaine walked in. 

“Good choice,” the man said, a smile splitting across the bottom of his face. 

“Oh, fuck off Gwaine,” Merlin ran his hands through his hair one final time. “You’re just jealous that I could move on any day I want, and you’re still stuck longing for my ass.” 

Gwaine laughed, filling the tiny space with the way his shoulders shook, his head tilted back. He’d been a good boyfriend. He’d introduced Merlin to his family, to his neighbors, to all his friends. But there was a reason why they’d broken up, Merlin sternly reminded himself. Namely, Gwaine’s insatiable appetite for other people. 

“You wish, honey,” Gwaine said, filling a mug with coffee. “You wish.” 

 

Arthur squirmed in his chair, yet another board meeting dragging out into interminability. There were at least six different companies that fell under the head of Pendragon Incorporated, but for the life of him, Arthur could only name the functions of three. The one he was most familiar with, the one whose’s logo spun deliriously in his dreams, was chaired by his older sister, Morgana. 

She smiled at him from across the table, her blood-red lips coupled perfectly with her elegantly sharpened fingernails. 

Arthur was, technically, her boss, Merlin worked under her. Several steps removed, but there was still a sheen of impropriety surrounding their affair that made Arthur’s skin itch. What if Arthur’s father found out that he was dating an employee it? Well, not quite dating. Arthur could escape intact, but Merlin’s reputation would surely be ruined, and he’d be out a job and his life. There were a lot of risks imbedded in their relationship, and Arthur was taking none of them. 

Merlin couldn’t seem to understand that. 

The sound of Morgana’s fingernails on the lacquer of the table brought him back to his senses. 

“Do you agree, Arthur?” Uther’s hair was graying around the temples, but his voice hadn’t lost any of its bite. 

“Completely, sir,” Arthur answered, not sure what he was agreeing to. “If we have nothing left on the dossier, I have some reports I should be getting to.” 

“All right.” Uther gathered up stray sheets of paper and lined them up nicely on the tabletop. “Meeting adjourned. Michelle, I want the meetings sent out by the end of the day. Have a nice and productive afternoon, gentlemen.” 

Arthur stood to ask the junior head in charge of sales a question, but Morgana caught him by the elbow and pulled him aside. “I’ve heard you’ve got a new toy,” she breathed, her breath sweet and cloying against his ear. “Boy. Excuse me.” 

Arthur shrugged her off, but she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “You don’t need be afraid of me. If you tell me your secret now, I promise I’ll keep it safe.” 

He raised both eyebrows. They were the same heigh, as they always had been, but her stilettos gave her the advantage. “Go find someone else to antagonize, Morgana. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night.” He stepped out from underneath her arm, but could feel her careful gaze on his shoulders. 

She’d give Merlin hell if she ever found out. And, besides, he was far more than just another pawn in their game. 

 

“Gwaine was hitting on me this morning,” Merlin said, his arms crossed around his knees. He’d never get over Arthur’s view. The front window looked over the sloping cliff and down over the bay. A single sail boat stood out on the horizon, the cherry on top of the picture-perfect cake. Arthur, though, was standing over the kitchen table, his chin in his hands. 

“Hmmm?” He didn’t sound particularly interested. He probably didn’t even know who Gwaine was. 

Merlin sighed and let his head drop against the glass. “Yeah.” Gwen was right. Here he was, making shit up for attention. He was supposed to be better than this. “I guess I’m going to go.” He stood up from the bench in the window, rubbing the mark from his forehead out with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Wait, what?” 

“I’ll let you work. Maybe I’ll see you over the weekend, or something.” Merlin tried to smile, but it was hard with the hollow building in his chest. “Or, around.” Arthur stood up and watched him as he made his way to the front hallway. 

“No, please, Merlin, please don’t.” He sounded desperate and a little lost, like someone had just pulled the rug out from underneath him. “Please, stay here.” 

“I don’t want to interrupt you. If you’re working, or whatever.” He tried to pull on a sneaker without jumping around, embarrassment already staining his cheeks. 

“I’m not—I’m not doing anything important. Please, Merlin.” His hands were on Merlin’s shoulders, so Merlin stood up. He could look down into Arthur’s eyes, see where his nose started and how it made its way to his mouth, straight and narrow. How his cheekbones spread out from the center of his face like wings, how his eyes were creased and bent on both sides. 

“Okay,” he whispered, even though he knew he’d regret it. He toed off his shoe. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Arthur tasted like honey and strawberries and the sting of mint toothpaste. Something just perfectly aged, something that still had a ways to grow. Just like he always did. Merlin put his hands on Arthur’s sides and kissed the man like he was all the air left. 

Arthur’s fingers were around his waist, in the fabric of his shirt, and then the cool air washed over his stomach as Arthur pulled the cotton up, up, over his head. Merlin swallowed as Arthur stuck his thumb into Merlin’s waistband and led him upstairs. Tomorrow. They would talk tomorrow. 

Upstairs, Arthur’s bedroom was yellow and bright like it always was. Merlin fell onto the bed, and Arthur stood between his legs, stroking his curls back from his face. “You’re beautiful,” he said, like he always did, like he was trying to convince Merlin. Desperate and pleading. “You’re beautiful.” 

He pressed another kiss into Merlin’s hairline, and Merlin closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against the warm skin of Arthur’s stomach. There was just this, just this. Just this interminable happiness and the sinking feeling of dread of what happens when it’s all over? What happens to me when he goes?

But that wasn’t now. Merlin reached up and kissed the underside of Arthur’s chin carefully, making sure that the man felt ever crease of his lips. “So are you,” he whispered, instead of everything else he wanted to say.


	2. Chapter 2

“Which one is Gwaine?” Arthur shut his menu suddenly and looked across the table at his sister. She’d dressed up, even for this average restaurant, diamonds dripping from her ears in strands. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Gwaine. I think he works in your department.” 

Morgana nodded, slowly, her attention still half on her menu. “Yes, I know who he is. Long hair, flirts with all the ladies. And the men.” She smiled, half to herself, mesmerized by the flickering light of the candle. “He had a nasty break up with this poor kid, Merlin, a couple of months ago? Tore up the office for days.” 

She shook her head and sighed, going back to the menu. “I know you’re not up to date on office gossip, given that you’re all the way up on your glass tower, but it was really horrible. Merlin caught him on top of some older woman from product production.”

Arthur felt his gut twist and contort. This was something that had been eating on his mind for the past day, something he shouldn’t have dwelt on but this—he hadn’t imagined this. Of course Merlin had ex-boyfriends, of course Merlin had a life outside of him. Of course Merlin had other options. Other people who saw how he smiled and how perfect he was.

“Anyways,” Morgana continued. “He’s really a charming man. And his work is spectacular too. If you were looking to contract him for a specific job, he’d certainly be willing.” 

“No, that’s okay.” Arthur cleared his throat and tried to look like he didn’t care too much. “I just saw his name on something out front this morning.” 

“Mmmm,” Morgana closed her menu too, and set it in front of her. “Have you ever met Merlin?”

Arthur stared at her for a long second. “Yeah.” 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! How am I supposed to know who you talk to?” 

Arthur’s chest sank. She should know. He should tell her. But, for some reason, he couldn’t get his tongue to move in the right configuration. “I do talk to people, you know,” he managed instead. 

“I know, I know. But, I think if you’d be great working with Merlin in a professional capacity. You both have the same drive and focus. And artistic sensibilities. Maybe I could set you two up with the the Dolan account.” She bit her bottom lip, deep in thought. 

“No, that’s really okay—“

“I think I will.” Shaking her head, she dismissed the topic. “Where’s the waitress? We should order.” 

Arthur’s protests turned to sawdust in his mouth. This was it. This was his chance, to grab Merlin by the shoulders and show him that their relationship didn’t work only in bed. It could be a real thing, if Merlin let it be real, and Arthur would be there to show him. 

He ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and listened to his sister, happier than he’d been in ages. 

 

“Morgana, you can’t make me.” 

“Arthur said you knew him, though,” Morgana said, not looking up from her computer, her perfectly manicured nails flying over the keyboard. “Look, you two are going to work perfectly together. And, he’s gay, so maybe if you make yourself extra pretty . . . “ she wiggled her eyebrows at him, a smirk twisting the side of her face. 

Merlin groaned and leaned his head against the doorjamb of her office. At least now he had a firm grasp of his status as Arthur’s dirty little secret. “Are you suggesting workplace sexual harassment?” 

“Oh, please.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve seen how you stare at his ass in khakis. Look, if he’s really terrible, tell me and I’ll switch you around, but at least give him a chance.” 

Merlin’s heart plummeted. “Yeah, okay, fine.” Like that’s not what he had been doing for the past four months. 

“He’ll be down in a minute. Put out your portfolio, or something? He was talking about Gwaine’s work last night at dinner, but I do not want Gwaine as part of this project.”

“Why was he talking about Gwaine?” Merlin felt his consciousness twinge as he pulled some of his graphic design examples out of his folder and spread them out on the table, touching each one to make sure it lined up exactly. He didn’t like being caught in lies. He didn’t like people to know that he lied at all. 

“He wanted to know ‘which one he was.’” Morgana’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “He asks the strangest things. I like that one.” 

“This one?” Merlin held up a picture of a design he did for the dish detergent ad he’d done last year. A pink elephant in a cascade of bubbles. 

“Yeah. It’s the right mix of whimsical and productive, and the color scheme is perfect. Do this like you’re doing that one.” She adjusted her computer monitor to reduce the glare on the screen. 

“What are we doing?” 

“A cookware set, right?” Arthur’s voice, deeper than usual with discomfort, echoed through Morgana’s small space. She raised her eyebrow at her brother appearance and looked him over. 

“Right,” she said. “How’d you know?” 

“I have my sources. Morning, Merlin.” His joviality was strained around its buckling point, and his smile seemed sharp and plastic. 

“Morning,” Merlin said, determined not to give an inch. 

“I thought you two said that you knew each other.” Morgana rolled her eyes. “Well, take the conference room down the hall and the information packet. When I see you two next I want smiles and a basic outline of something that we could possibly do that I could pitch. Alright?” 

“Sure,” Merlin said, sweeping up his papers. “Arthur, lead the way.” 

 

“So, here we have the price range and the demographic—“

“You’re seriously going to sit her and say this shit to my face?” 

Arthur looked up, confused. Merlin’s face was tight and angry, his fingers curled into fists, his arms crossed across his chest. “I’m just reading the statistics,” Arthur said, and he hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt. In the face of Merlin’s anger, he didn’t know what do to with himself.

“So? You know you’re going to walk out of here in a half an hour, satisfied with your blow job and your fifty percent of the credit, while this mess sits on my desk and my paycheck festers.” His gestured were tight and sharp, and Arthur wanted to curl into a ball against himself. 

“No, Merlin, I promise you, that’s not what I’m going to do.” 

“Yeah, well.” Merlin looked away, and Arthur tried not to notice the wet stains in the corners of his eyes. 

“I swear.” Arthur flipped through a couple more pages. “It’s not like I could force you to do anything to me if you didn’t want to.” He tried for a laugh at the end, but his joke fell flat. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t think of it as forcing,” Merlin said, sitting forward in his chair, composed again. “Your sister wants something whimsical and practical. She said she liked the pink and blue color scheme, but I think she was just making a point.” 

“Right?” 

“Right. So, I’m thinking, kitchens—they’re, like, family, right? And—“ he started sketching, the lines fluid under his fingers, drawing out a small, homey kitchen, the likes of which Arthur had never visited. Vague indications of objects crowding the counter, a refrigerator filled with magnets and papers. Even with just outlines, Merlin managed to perfectly communicate a picture of home. 

“When I think of kitchens,” he continued, tucking his bottom lip underneath his teeth, “I think of my Mum, so there’s that, and then there’s sunflowers and her good dishtowels which were blue and white, and then her teeny tiny porcelain cow, so I think we should incorporate those colors in to at least one color scheme options. What do you think?” 

“What? Oh.” Arthur traced the graphite with one finger. “That looks amazing.” 

“Right, thanks, but what are your ideas?” 

“For cookware? I guess I like the idea of um . . . stoves.” Arthur hadn’t had a lot of experience in a kitchen. Any, really. The closest he’d gotten to a real meal cooked in a kitchen he’d been in was hibachi last month. “And, like, pots on the flame?” 

Merlin nodded, though, like he agreed, and Arthur’s heart leaped for joy inside his chest. “And peas and mashed potatoes,” he added, and Merlin laughed. 

“Peas and mashed potatoes,” Merlin said, writing it down into his notes. “What else?” 

The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon like that, their conversation about color schemes spiraling out into a dozen derivations, with Merlin writing it all down in his notebook. It was the most Arthur had spoken to Merlin in one sitting, he thought. And it was the most he’d enjoyed himself in a very long time. A very, very long time. 

At five, he stood up, the sun sinking past the horizon, pulling his jacket on. “Do you want to come get a bite to eat with me?” he offered, a buzz of happiness still drifting somewhere between his naval and his collar bone. 

Merlin looked up at him, apprehensive, zipping his notebook into some heavy-duty leather thing. “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate? You being my boss’s boss, and all.” 

Arthur’s stomach sunk heavy to his toes. Merlin wasn’t talking about the act of going out to eat at all, he was talking about the fact that they might get caught, together, in an unprofessional capacity. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think it would be.” 

His heart broke at Merlin’s smile, which was big enough to split his face in half. 

They chose the sit-down place at the end of the street, dimly lit and not too crowded. Arthur holds the door for Merlin as they stepped inside, the warm din of the old wood bar comforting. Merlin found a table near the back and took his jacket off, the lines of his neck beautiful as he stretched. 

“Rough day,” he said, apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded, entranced. He pulled himself up into his bar stool, trying not to fall over as he stared at Merlin. “So, um, you hungry?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, but pulled himself up in his seat so he was facing Arthur. “Yeah, I forgot lunch. This place has good pico, but it’s a little cold out for that, don’t you think?” 

“Pico de gallo? I guess? Why didn’t you eat lunch?” 

“I was working. Sometimes I forget lunch. Are you getting a beer? Because if you do and I don’t, that will make me look cheap, but if you don’t and I do, I’ll look like a lush.” 

Arthur smiled. “No one’s going to notice!” 

“Just you and the waiter.” Merlin smiled back, and tapped the side of his head. “I have to keep up appearances, I’ve got people to impress.” 

Arthur blushed to know that he might be one of the people that Merlin was trying to impress. 

“Why were you asking after Gwaine?” Merlin asked, suddenly, his voice making the candle in the center of their table flicker. 

“Gwaine? The—oh.” Arthur opened his menu and fiddled with the laminate. “You were talking about him. And his artwork was in the front lobby.” 

“He wasn’t flirting with me,” Merlin said shortly. “He’s made it clear that we’re through.” He looked up and caught Arthur’s eye. “And he doesn’t have any artwork in the front lobby.” 

“Right.” The smile came easier to Arthur’s face, though, knowing that no one was planning to snatch Merlin away from him just yet. Well, maybe there was, but they hadn’t made any moves yet. Also, Merlin had told him the truth, not just avoided the topic. Weight poured off of his shoulders. “Well. You know.” 

Merlin smiled too, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. “You don’t need to be so fucking jealous.” 

“I’m not—I’m not trying to be. It’s just that you’re going to find a prettier man with an easier life, and then—“ sadness crashed over him, and he blinked, studying the selection of draft beers against the back wall with unrivaled intensity. “You’re gone.” 

Silence settled over them for a few moments, punctuated only by sounds from other tables, and the occasional exclamation from the television. “I could say the same about you,” Merlin eventually replied, looking up from his menu. “I think I’ll have the chicken sandwich and a Sam Adams. How about you?” 

 

They wound up in Merlin’s apartment, Arthur with his pants around his ankles, Merlin pushing him back against the couch. It was the first time Arthur had been in his apartment, and Merlin had worried about the mess until he realized that it wasn’t going to matter all that much. He was good at distracting Arthur. 

Arthur gasped as he fell back against the couch. “I need—my socks off. Please?” 

Merlin let himself smile as he dropped to his knees in front of Arthur. “Of course, your majesty,” he said, rolling Arthur’s left sock down his calf. “Anything else your royal highness wants?” He took the other sock and balled it up, dropping it nicely on top of the pile of Arthur’s pants. 

“Your shirt,” Arthur said, pointing at Merlin. “Come on, take it off.” He pulled Merlin between his legs and slid his fingers underneath the fabric, his callouses rough against Merlin’s stomach. Merlin rested his elbows on each of Arthur’s thighs as his shirt went flying across the room. 

“Pants, too?” Arthur asked hopefully, but Merlin shook his head. 

“Nope.” He popped the p as he slid his fingers down the cool teeth of Arthur’s zipper. “You alright?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m always alright, with you. Get on with it, boy.” His hand was lightly fisted in Merlin’s hair, and a light smile teased across his lips. Merlin had spent the whole day with him, with this golden man, and felt closer to him that he had in months. 

Merlin smiled back, again, and let his fingers tease close to the button of Arthur’s jeans, drawing shapes against the material. “Is this what you want?” 

Arthur groaned from the light pressure of Merlin’s fingers. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, his knees pinning Merlin’s bare torso. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.” 

Merlin undid the button and the zip, anxious to undo the layers between them. “Of course,” he whispered back, letting his breath ghost over Arthur. Because even if this was only for one night, just tonight, he was going to pretend like it would never end.


	3. Chapter 3

“I got a date!” Gwen’s shrill screech sent static through the phone line, and Merlin winced, pulling the phone away from his ear, 

“That’s great, love,” he said, as he got himself back together. “With whom?” 

“Lance, the guy that works in PR.” He could hear her anxiety over the phone, and could visualize the way she was biting her nails. “The really handsome one? The really, really handsome one. Who had the daisies on his desk?” 

“Mmm,” Merlin nodded, and got himself a glass. He set it down on the kitchen counter, the green and blue fish around the rim taunting him. “What happened?” 

“Okay, so, I ran into him at the store? I was in the produce isle, and we were both looking at nectarines, and he recognized me from work? And he was really sweet and everything, so I basically wound up following him around the entire store for, like, and hour, and he helped me do all my shopping. And then he asked me out for dinner sometime next week, and asked for my number to confirm everything, so!” She laughed, happily, on the other end of the phone, and Merlin smiled. 

He got out the gallon of milk from the fridge and set it on the counter, flipping the lid off with his thumb. “That sounds really nice, Gwen. A good meet cute.” 

“Right! That’s the story we’re going to tell our children.” She sighed dreamily, and then laughed. It had been a while since Merlin had heard her so carefree. He poured himself a glass of milk, watching it spill over the edge and onto the counter. 

“So,” she continued. “I had a great night. A sign of many more great nights to come. I could go into everything he did, and everything he was wearing, but I doubt you want to hear that.” 

Merlin smiled again. “Yeah, thanks, Gwenny. I don’t want to think about the PR guy’s pecs every time I walk by his desk.” He chugged the milk, letting it wash away the taste of everything else. 

He could hear her rolled eyes. “Of course you do! They’re probably amazing. Anyways. How was your night?” 

“I blew Arthur Pendragon,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “Ah, fuck. You’re probably not supposed to know that. Forget I told you?” 

He could hear her choking on the other end of the phone. “You did what?” She managed. “Does your mystery guy know about this?” 

He didn’t answer either of her questions, instead putting the milk back in the fridge. “He’s still here,” he said, and he could hear how sad he was. “He slept in my bed last night. He’s in my house, Gwenny. He’s making my sheets smell like him.” 

“Oh, honey. Oh, Merlin, no.” She sounded so kind and warm that he wanted to lay his head against the cabinet and sob, but he couldn’t. He had to be stronger than that. Arthur could probably hear him through the thin walls. 

It was just—waking up in his bed next to Arthur had been too much. Usually they fucked in Arthur’s apartment, some stately penthouse that existed miles above reality. Somewhere without personality. Somewhere Merlin didn’t have to go back to unless he wanted to. But Arthur, with his hair all disarrayed, his limbs splayed out over the covers, his breath light against the morning—it had been everything Merlin had ever wanted. 

Waking up next to someone he loved. He couldn’t love Arthur, though. He couldn’t. That would surely kill him. 

“Merlin,” Gwen said, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Merlin whispered back. 

“I won’t, I promise. But you’re going to tell me everything next time I see you in person, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He wiped his fingers across his eyes, surprised that they came away wet. “And you’ll tell me all about Lance’s pecs, right?” 

Her laugh was honey and warmth. “Right. Have a good day, love. Cal me if you need anything at all.”

“I will,” he said, her dial tone echoing in his ear. “I promise, I will.” He went to wash his face with cold water before kicking Arthur out. It was Saturday. He had better things to do than sit around and moon. 

 

Arthur woke up, feeling safe, but disoriented. He was wearing only his boxers, and he was covered in a strange multitude of blankets. And—he sat up and looked around the room, his head pounding slightly—the room he was in was in utter disarray. There were posters from bands he’d never even heard of all over the wall, and clothes across the floor. He remembered it all, vaguely, from last night, but mostly he remembered Merlin’s fingers across his—

Merlin! 

He pushed the blankets off his lap hurriedly, and looked around for the rest of the clothes. If Merlin had a roommate, he didn’t want to be putting on a show. Now, a show for Merlin? Any day. He stood up and looked around, scratching his chest. 

“This isn’t your house.” Merlin’s voice was deep and rough with morning scratchiness. 

“I’m sorry?” Arthur looked up, pushing his hair from his face. Merlin was standing against the door frame, eating Captain Crunch. His eyes flicked over Arthur, and Arthur felt a blush spread from his cheekbones down to his stomach. 

“Like what you see?” Arthur said, but his voice cracked, and his blush got deeper. 

Merlin laughed, but not unkindly. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked instead. He was dressed and showered, and Arthur was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to see bed-head Merlin. Merlin, half-dressed and off guard. 

“Um, yeah, sure. What do you have?” 

Merlin shook his head. “Picky. The shower’s done the hall.” He left the room, and Arthur, gaping after him. 

Merlin’s apartment was small and cluttered. Picture frames lined the yellow walls, Merlin noticeably younger in each shot. Arthur felt a pang of jealousy as he studied Merlin pressed cheek to cheek with another blond man, the two of them smiling into the camera. He didn’t have any photos of Merlin like that. It didn’t look like anyone else lived in the house, though, the miscellaneous scattered down the hallway all perfectly Merlin. 

His bathroom was small, too. A cramped counter contained a multitude of hair products, and the shower curtain had rubber ducks printed on the side. Arthur shucked his boxers and stepped into the shower, waiting for the water to warm up, excitement buzzing under his skin. Merlin usually wouldn’t let Arthur into his home. 

So something was changing. Maybe, something was changing. Arthur dried off and pulled his underwear back on, still feeling grungy. 

“What’s for breakfast?” He asked, standing in the middle of the kitchen. His clothes from yesterday were scattered across the floor. 

Merlin looked up from the newspaper he was reading He looked majestic hanging from his shoulders, the curve of his neck exposed as he read. “I don’t know,” he said eventually, looking at the kitchen behind him. “I have cereal.” 

Arthur waited a moment for more options, but when none were forthcoming, he slapped himself on the stomach. “Sounds delicious. Where do I start?” 

“You could put on some pants.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Merlin shrugged. “I just don’t normally allow pants-less men to eat at my kitchen table.” 

Arthur faltered. “Do other men often eat at your kitchen table?” 

Merlin looked up at him, one eyebrow bent. “I mean. The ones that do are wearing their fucking pants.” 

Arthur’s stomach tightened at that, but he got himself a bowl from the cabinet and filled it with cereal, sitting down woodenly in his seat. 

Merlin watched him. “Do you want milk? Or coffee?” 

“I”m fine, but thanks.” 

The two chewed in silence for a couple of minutes, until Merlin broke it. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Nothing.” 

“I’m allowed to have other people in my apartment, you know.” 

“I know you are.” 

“Right.” Merlin studied him for a moment, his eyes sweeping over Arthur’s cheek and down his neck. Arthur tried hard not to blush, tried hard not to let the anger he was feeling tighten his eyes. “I’m glad we’ve established that.” He tipped the lip of his bowl to his mouth and swallowed the excess milk down in a couple of gulps. 

Arthur tried very, very hard not to watch. 

After breakfast, Arthur dressed, refusing to look at Merlin. Jealousy was a bitter pill that festered in the bottom of his stomach. Maybe Merlin allowing him into his apartment wasn’t some sign of affection and trust, but an admissions of his serial hook-up tendencies. Fuck him. Not literally. Not any time soon, at least. 

Merlin watched him get dressed, his arms crossed over each other, his jeans just a bit too big for his waist. “Honestly, what are you worried about?” 

“I’m not worried about anything!” Arthur snapped, tugging his shirt on over his wet hair. “Next time—“ he caught himself between silence and explanation, and his need to speak won over. “Just, tell me; am I just another fuck, to you?” 

The laugh burst out of Merlin, wild and harsh. “Are you just another fuck to me? Jesus, Arthur. Are you jealous?” 

Arthur bit his bottom lip, barefoot and desperate. He hadn’t realized how fragile he was until that moment, standing before Merlin in the middle of a strange apartment, in the spot where he’d been so happy just seven hours before. “Yes,” he whispered sadly. “Yes I am. I want to be the only naked man at your breakfast table.” 

Merlin started to laugh, but he stopped at the seriousness of Arthur’s face. 

“That’s what I thought,” Arthur whispered, as he gathered up his shoes. He shut the door behind him, so Merlin couldn’t see the watery red of his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur crawled into bed Saturday afternoon and didn’t manage to drag himself out until Sunday. Thoughts of Merlin cycled through his head like the worst pop tune, Merlin’s soft skin against his lips, the way he breathed carefully against Arthur’s skin. The delicate turn up of his nose, his hair always in his face. For every new thought came a new pain, tearing through Arthur’s heart. 

When he finally washed his face he closed his eyes against the mirror so he wouldn’t see the tear tracks decorating his cheeks. 

Could he go in to work tomorrow? He doesn’t want to think about that now, but he can’t help himself from tracing grooves into the ugly inevitable—Merlin’s face across the desk from him, his careful examination of Arthur. God, he could kill Morgana. 

He ate cereal for lunch, watching it drown in his bowl. He couldn’t live the rest of his life like this, half polished and full of regret. On autopilot, he put his dishes in his sink and pulled a coat on over his pajama top. His car purred as he turned it on, agreeing with his decision. 

He couldn’t have told you where he was heading the whole time he drove, just that he remembered these streets from his retreat yesterday. 

Not only until he was standing on the steps of Merlin’s building, his finger just over the buzzer, did the panic consume him. He forced himself to do it anyways, studying the way his finger curved around the white plastic of the bell. There was the shrill ring, covered by the static of the radio, and then the his voice, familiar but hoarse, over the line. 

“Who’s it?” 

Arthur cleared his throat. “It’s me. Arthur. I have to—I have to talk to you. I have to make it final.” 

He could hear Merlin’s soft sigh over the intercom, no doubt lamenting the less-than-clean break, but he buzzed him through, the front door unlocking. 

The halls of his building were darker than Arthur remembered, but granted, on Friday night he’d been stumbling drunk with his mouth attached to Merlin’s face, his fingers tangled in the buttons of his work shirt. He swallowed against the memory and took the elevator upstairs, knocking hesitantly at Merlin’s door when he reached it. 

It opened to Merlin, still in his pajamas pants, shirtless an wrapped in a blanket, his hair an absolute wreck. He refused to look Arthur in the eye, just let him in and sat down in the same place Arthur had been sitting on Friday night. 

Arthur refused to remember that, closing his eyes tightly against the sensations it recalled, tucking his fingers against the meat of his palm. “Look,” he began, “This isn’t something that I can just do over the phone, okay? I need—I need to hear you say it. I need to make it real for me, you know, that I’m not going to be with you any more.” 

“Gwen says I have to talk to you.” Merlin didn’t look at him as he spoke, instead staring at the plaster over the television. 

“Who’s Gwen, again?” The change in topic threw Arthur off, but he walked over and sat down in one over the overstuffed armchairs, across from Merlin. He felt like maybe he should take his shoes off, but he also felt like he was too pissed for curtsey. 

“Co-worker.”

“Ah, right. Thank you.” 

“I called her on the phone this morning and cried for like, a half an hour—” What did Merlin have to cry about? Arthur bit his bottom lip, to keep the question from spilling out. Merlin wasn’t the one left with a broken heart. Though, looking at him, Arthur noticed the bags under his eyes and how red his face was. How he refused to look at Arthur’s face. Guilt began to worm its way through Arthur’s shield of anger. 

“And she said that this was all my fault. And I said, how, exactly, is this my fault? And she said it was because of my lack of communication. And I said, Arthur’s just fucking me because I’m convenient and willing, and she said, how do you know? Have you asked him? So,” he looked at Arthur, finally, and Arthur could see how distraught he was, “this is me, asking you, are you just fucking me because I’m convenient and willing?” 

Arthur couldn’t find his voice for a moment. “No,” he said, eventually. “I can’t—Merlin, why would you even think that?”

Merlin shrugged. “How could I not ever think that?”

“Merli—“  

“No, listen to me. Have you ever taken me on a date? Have you ever expressed any affection to me other than wanting sex? And you know what, I was willing to put up with it for too long because I wanted anything you would give me. You meant so fucking much to me, and—“ he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand resolutely. “But if this is the way it’s going to continue to be, then you’re going to need to find someone else to treat like shit.” 

Looking at Merlin, the way his fingers tightened in his hair as he spoke, the way he seemed to be holding himself together by the threads, Arthur broke. “I just wanted to keep you safe,” he whispered, and the excuse sounded small in his ears. “I thought—I thought you would lose your job. And I know that you don’t value your job more than you do me—“ 

“Of course I do!” Merlin’s reaction was violent and unexpected. He sat up suddenly and stared at Arthur, hard, before sitting bacon his seat. “There are risks that a person expects when they start fucking their boss, and I’m prepared to face all of them. Of course, I haven’t started looking for another job, because I didn’t want to leave you, but . . . “ He looked up at Arthur, biting his bottom lip. “I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” 

“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, and he was on his knees in front of Merlin in an instant. 

“No, no, no,” and with Merlin’s hand through his hair, everything was okay again. “Please,” he whispered, and his voice was small and broken, “If we’re going to do this right, we don’t start with sex.”

“No,” Arthur promised, dragging Merlin’s hand out of his hair with his own, tangling their fingers up in each other. “But, please, just this?” 

The two of them tangled up on the couch, clinging onto each other’s arms, Merlin’s head on Arthur’s shoulder. He could have lost this, he could have lost all of Merlin, but he didn’t. The sun sunk through the slats in Merlin’s shades as he drifted off in Arthur’s arms. It was one of the best moments in Arthur’s memory. 

 

Monday morning found Merlin pulling himself out of Arthur’s grasp. Arthur had curled around him like a kitten, his head tucked against Merlin’s shoulder, his fingers against Merlin’s waistband. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know if he wanted to believe it, honestly—

He touched Arthur’s hair, the short blond strands wrapping themselves around Merlin’s fingers. It was more than he ever could have asked for. It was more than he knew what to do with. 

So he went into the kitchen and made pancakes, unwilling to wake Arthur. Even though they needed to be into work in an hour, and Arthur was still wearing his crumpled pajamas. Merlin smiled at the thought, and dumped a half cup of milk into the from-the-box mixture of flour and sugar and whatever else. That was how desperate Arthur had been to see him. Desperate enough forget the pretense of appearance. 

Still, Merlin didn’t know how far he could trust this newfound understanding. Arthur hadn’t pushed him away when he’d said no to anything more physical, but they hadn’t talked any more than that. What did hat mean for now? Their relationship, firstly, and Merlin’s job, secondly. 

It wasn’t like Merlin couldn’t find another job with the glowing recommendation Morgana was sure to give him and Pendragon Enterprises on his resume. He put the batter onto the griddle and watched it sizzle, bubbling around the edges. It was just the problem of Arthur. And what to do when he left, and what do with him in the meantime. 

Just thinking about his eventual departure made Merlin’s heart turn, and he watched Arthur, asleep on the couch, over his shoulder. He taken a pillow onto his lap and buried his face into it. Merlin smiled, biting his bottom lip. 

“You need to get up,” he said, plate in hand, a couple of minutes later. He poked at Arthur’s shoulder. “Come on, wake up!” 

Arthur startled awake, pulling his head back suddenly. He looked up at Merlin, his eyes open comically wide, a line of drool attaching his lower lip to the pillow. “Where the hell am I?” He whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“My house.” Merlin gestured around. 

Arthur nodded slowly, following Merlin’s motion with his eyes. “What day is it?” 

“Monday. We have to be at work in,” Merlin checked the clock on the television box. “Like, an hour and a half? At least, I have to be in to work. I don’t know what time you go in . . .” he trailed off as he caught himself rambling. “Are you going to eat this?” 

“Sunday happened,” Arthur said, still staring at Merlin dead in the eye, his hands wrapped loosely around Merlin’s wrist. 

“Yes, it was yesterday.” 

“Good.” Arthur smiled and took the plate from Merlin, settling back in the couch. “Are you going to come eat with me?” 

Merlin looked at him and laughed, as he was suddenly so comfortable in Merlin’s home. “No, I have to go take a shower and clean myself up, but I’ll be out in a moment—“

Arthur caught his wrist and tugged him down to the couch gently. “No, don’t do that. We’re going to take the day off.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows “Are we?” 

“Yes, we are. I’ll call Morgana right now and tell her not to expect either of us.” 

Hope died a brief death in Merlin’s chest. “What are you going to tell her when she asks where you are?” 

“I’m going to tell her that I’m sitting on a couch with a cute boy,” he said, cutting up his breakfast with the side of his fork, “and then you’re going to call her and tell her the exact same thing. If she can’t put it together from that, well, then she really is dumber than she looks.” He looked up at Merlin, his eyes glinting. “I think she’s been trying to get us together, too.” 

Merlin couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he sat next to Arthur, curling up so his head was on Arthur’s shoulder. “So, this is permanent?” He asked, one last time. 

Arthur made a noise of affirmation, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “You’re stuck with me,” he said, his mouth half full, and they were the most beautiful words Merlin had ever heard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, who's stuck through this like, what, year long hiatus? I sort of left you hanging, but thank you for reading. Again, i'm dazeyspace.tumblr.com and if you ever need anything, hit me up!

“And that about wraps it up for the Dolan line,” Arthur said, shifting his weight so he could see over the heads of the executives who'd come to make the final purchasing decision. “As you can see, it’s both stylish and practical, the perfect blend of form and function. And, it has been the most enjoyable undertaking of all my years at Pendragon Enterprises. Do you have any questions?”

A woman with her hair pulled away from her face asked for further clarification on the proposed pricing scale, but Arthur’s attention was caught by the head of curls he could see through the wide glass windows of the conference room. It had been three months since his honest conversation with Merlin, but his heart still jumped every time Arthur thought he saw him. 

“I'm sorry—are you listening to me?” The woman asked, looking over her shoulder to the graphic design center, trying to follow the path of Arthur’s gaze.

“Certainly, ma’am, but if you could repeat the question?”

Merlin was looking for new jobs. He'd sent out resumes and had gone to a couple of interviews, and it was only a matter of time before Arthur wouldn't work in the same building as him anymore. Morgana told them both that it was for the best, because honestly, the whole thing could have turned out to be a PR nightmare, but Arthur didn't care. He couldn't find it in himself to worry about the repercussion that he could face for wanting to be with Merlin. For being with Merlin. 

He hoped, though, that Merlin would never have to face any consequences. 

He found himself in Merlin’s apartment after work, toeing off his shoes at the door. “I'm home!” He shouted, jokingly, because this wasn't his home, not yet.

“I can hear you dear, it's only one room,” Merlin said from the kitchen. He had something in a pan, and was tossing it in the air. Arthur loved watching him cook, how sure of himself he was. “We have Gwennie and Lance, and then your sister and her arm candy coming over, don’t forget,” he said, glancing up at Arthur, a stray curl slipping over his forehead.

Merlin had redone his apartment to make room for Arthur—more chairs and fewer piles of miscellaneous art supplies—but Arthur’s favorite addition was the line of fairy lights that they’d hung up together sometime last month. Their golden halos cast the entire apartment in a friendly light. It was breathtaking in a homey sort of way, a permanence that Arthur wouldn’t have had faith in just a a few months earlier. They never failed to make his heart catch in his chest as he walked through the apartment. 

Arthur groaned and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist. “I’d completely forgotten.” He tucked his chin into the curve of Merlin’s neck. “Could we tell them that I'm sick? Just—“ he paused for a moment, wracking his brains. “Just vomiting, everywhere.”

Merlin laughed, and Arthur could feel the air moving through his body. “You just saw most of them a half an hour ago. We all do work together.”

“I know, but you could try to sell it. For me,” he pressed closer to Merlin, letting his lips trail across Merlin’s soft, pale skin. He loved the place where Merlin’s neck met with his jaw, the serpentine arch of his throat meeting with the hard lines of his mouth. It was his weakness, one of his favorite parts of Merlin. “For us. For this night alone,” he simpered, really laying it on thick. 

Merlin laughed, a big sound that filled up the room. “I have tonight and every other night for the rest of our lives with you, dear. Now back up, I need to get to the soy sauce.”

Gwen and Lance came in first, Gwen carrying a bottle of wine and wearing a nice red dress, Lance dressed nicer than had occurred to Arthur. Arthur opened the door for them and introduced them to the hastily tidied apartment. The pair were still wary of him, accustomed more to seeing him in the role of their boss’ brother, than their best friend’s boyfriend. It was a culture shock Arthur hoped they'd soon get over. 

Morgana and her new beau, Leon, made more of a splash. She was dressed like she was about to go clubbing, and he was dressed like a financial banker, but they brought plenty of alcohol. 

Arthur pulled the table out of the kitchen and situated it in the middle of the living room, so that the guests could sit on couches and chairs. The five of them lounged around, watching Merlin cook. “I didn't know that a person could sweat that much,” Gwen teased, Lance’s hand clasped tightly on hers. “What are you even making?”

Merlin flashed her the middle finger. “It's stir fry and it's fucking hot!” he shouted, and everyone laughed. 

Morgana hit her brother on the arm. “I'm so glad he found someone who could cook,” she said, “otherwise he would have starved.” A glass of wine was balanced delicately between her fingers, making her look too sophisticated for the small apartment.

“I wouldn't call what Merlin does cooking,” Gwen said, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows, sending everyone into another round of laughter. By the time the food was out, everyone was sufficiently drunk, erasing any boss/employee tensions and concerns about the food. 

Merlin balanced himself precariously on Arthur’s lap to eat, even though there were more than enough seats everywhere else. “So,” he sad, his bony ass digging into Arthur’s knees. “How’s everyone’s week been?” He leaned back against Arthur’s chest, his dark hair fluttering around Arthur’s mouth, his nose. The casual affection drove Arthur insane in the best way—how had he kept Merlin so far from him for so long? 

The room broke out in chatter again, and everything was languid, easy. Arthur ran his fingers over the hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck, whisper soft. The buzz of the party was golden and light, but what made him happiest was the weight of Merlin against his chest, the way his laughter inflated his stomach under Arthur’s palm, his hair against Arthur’s cheek and neck. He laughed when Merlin did and let himself get wrapped up in the excitement of the party. 

When they left, when he finally ushered their guests out of Merlin’s apartment, it was a little past 11. Arthur fell against the door with a heavy sigh, and looked back at his partner. “It wasn’t a wild night,” Merlin said, his arms stretched above his head in a lazy yawn, an inch of stomach bared. “I mean, it’s fucking eleven.“

Arthur smiled and walked forward, wrapping his arms around Merlin. “It was too long. I wanted them out of here ages ago.” 

Merlin laughed, bringing his arms down around Arthur’s neck. “Did you have fun?” he asked after a moment, sincere. 

“I did,” Arthur answered, tightening his arms around Merlin. He thought, for a moment, about bringing up how badly he wanted to put his own apartment on the market and just stay here, for forever, but he didn’t say it. It wouldn’t be fair, not this early on. “Did you?” he asked instead. 

“I did.” Merlin readjusted his head so that his cheek was pressed against Arthur’s. “Having all of them is almost like having a family. If you know what I mean.” 

Arthur nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” Pulling back to look at Merlin’s face, he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I love you. And every moment I spend with you.” 

Merlin smiled, his bow lips breaking apart to reveal his teeth, and he looked down sheepishly. “I love you too,” he said, each word as precious to Arthur as all the times he’d said it before. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth reckless against Arthur’s his hands going up to tangle in Arthur’s hair, and Arthur groaned, leaning into him. He tasted good, sweet. Like Merlin always tasted. Arthur pressed back against him, pressing his fingers into Merlin’s smooth back, digging underneath his tee-shirt for the warm skin underneath. 

“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, breaking away from him. “What are we up to tonight, darling?” 

Merlin smiled into the crease of his cheek. “Whatever you want, dear.” He leaned in again, pulling at Arthur’s lips with his teeth, his fingers a gentle pressure on the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur groaned and stumbled against him, the two of them collapsing against each other on the couch. 

Merlin laughed, contented, his arms crossed over his stomach, but Arthur grabbed him by the forearms, dragging Merlin up to a sitting position, then up, so Merlin was straddling his lap. “I want you to kiss me so I feel it tomorrow,” he whispered into Merlin’s ear, and Merlin complied, his lips brushing against Arthur’s mouth, against his neck, against his collar bones. “Harder,” he whispered, sinking his knuckles into Merlin’s thick hair, and Merlin responded, his mouth hot against Arthur’s skin. 

When he came up for air, lightly peppering Arthur with fairy kisses that followed the trail of his freckles, Arthur caught his head between his hands. “What do you want now?” he asked, his breath coming in gasps, his chest heaving from just that. 

Merlin smiled wickedly, running his hands over Arthur’s stomach, his strong hands across Arthur’s torso. “Whatever you want,” he whispered, his voice low enough to make Arthur shiver, and Arthur reached up and brought him back down so that Merlin was against him, Merlin filled up his senses, so that there was Merlin and nothing else. 

This is what Arthur wanted. This, and nothing else.


End file.
